Silence
by Jane Connor
Summary: Silence here is subjective, like at any other regular top of the world.


Silence here is subjective, like at any other regular top of the world. Silence's incomplete, it's breathing, filling out with thousands of traces you could barely hear. The lack of human voices makes the silence perfect. Here, at the highest point, the tower looks like it's made of darkened ivory, and the silence is a living, singing creature. It writhes about variegated glass with the northern wind, whirrs with tide waves at the bottom, reverberates with echoes of footsteps and rustling of distant voices.

Rodney is never alone in that kind of silence. The world around him is immersed with it, white noise somewhere on the brink of consciousness, and its indistinct whisper protects his mind, bring him clarity.

This is his place, this abandoned sight ground made of marble, glass and amber. He would never dare to call this place a meditation room, but here, so far from other people and so close to their voices, his mind soars, seeks and often finds soothing. He can't possibly hope to assume an utter calmness, a measured pace or harmony: Rodney McKay is too forceful, too restless for this, a bit of a too much and more, more, more… But here's the thing: if your mind is a whole world, it's surprisingly easy to break away from the reality.

On the top of the world his mind throws away transient things slipping too fast from his fingers. Sometimes Rodney thinks that here, in this seclude corner of Atlantis, where the sky, the wind and the sound of waves are closing on together, he's trying to outrun the time itself.

This place he likes. Here he could forget about his mistakes, about the regrets, the pain, about the decisions and actions that haunting him in the real world down below. This is his sanctuary, full of memories, his secret lair.

It's pity, really, that almost everybody in Atlantis knows about it.

"Hey, buddy!", and it's barely audible, almost unsure. Rodney sits with his back turned, and only a month ago he'd turned around immediately, he'd smile and call to come over. Now there's a resistance inside him, and he doesn't know what to do about it. The silence around him is trying to crawl into his heart.

"Hello". Rodney's mind is full of gibberish, nonsense, everything is so confusing, and he doesn't seem to able to start a conversation. Start a conversation that nobody's going to like – not the beginning, nor the middle and certainly not the ending. "I was under impression we had figured everything out about our relationship. Or that thing that passes for relationship between us these days".

He wanted to be sarcastic, biting, to be himself. Turns out, he's acting like Jeannie, passive-aggressive and childish. He hates this ugly feeling he encounters in the middle of any so called 'relationship talks'.

John doesn't give him a chance to think the thought through.

"Rodney… I…" Again with the pauses, again with unproductive, fake silence. For the past six months allure of succinctness has got quite scuffed, though Rodney's still thinking about the fact with great amount of guilt. "I don't know what do you want from me".

Oh, here goes my guilt, thanks, John.

"Me? I don't want anything from you. Honestly". Rodney lifts up his head and looks thoughtfully at John. "All I could possibly want I wanted about a year ago. Now? I'm not even sure."

The truth is painful and unpleasant, trite. In his head it all sounds logical, reasonable, acceptable. In the reality his thoughts, usually as precise as crystals, scatter away under pressure of the routine, common banality, becoming lines from trashy romance novels. As if not trashy romance novels even exist.

The heavy palm on his shoulder takes him out from his stupor. The long pause and unspoken presence tell him he has to finish.

"You know, for some weird natural… naivety, I guess, I always thought that if I would try and be a better person, people would actually want to be with me. Want to love me, to live with me, and wouldn't be ashamed of me…"

"You don't make any sense, you understand that, do you? People love you, they don't ashamed of you!" There's an indignation in John's voice, and six months ago this would be very satisfying. But not now.

"Oh, really?" Suddenly Rodney is angry, just like that, almost out of the blue. "So you're trying to say that you, the person who has an affair with me for the past year, not ashamed of me, that you love me and not afraid to live with me? All those early mornings, when you shout that I should get out of your room because you're scared people would notice? And in the bright light of the day you're acting like there's nothing between us, not even friendship. Tell me, what are you trying to accomplish by this, exactly?"

"Look, we've been through this before! You're not a five year old, you got to understand we can't just start making out in the middle of the Control Room just because DADT is repealed! Don't be an idiot, Rodney!" And now John's even more angry than a moment ago. That's the irony.

Rodney doesn't even want to say anything. For the past few months they indeed have been through this a number of times, with the same result. And as usual, there's many things left unsaid, unfinished, things that hurt. It's just, there was hope once. It seems to Rodney there's no hope left to loose.

"I won't be an idiot, not anymore. You're right." He doesn't want to hurt John, he gets what John's feeling. He really does. Psychiatrist sessions and his own knowledge about psychiatry from the textbooks are useful at the moments like that.

Rodney always thought he'd do anything for their relationship. And it's true, in some sense – he would give up his life for John, if needed. But for the past few years he realized he didn't ready for a life of perpetual teenager who's playing race-cars and computer games with his best friend by free evenings and having sex with the said friend by night. Because after all of that he's still just a 'friend'. Even if he's the only one who is calling this weird thing between them a 'relationship' and still hoping for something. Anything. But it's not going to happened.

John sits right beside him, and it's so easy for Rodney to turn his head and look at him. John's staring at the floor, fingers clenched on his knees, shoulders sagged, as if in sadness.

"We always were odd couple". Rodney's trying to catch John's eyes but John is turned away from him. "I've changed. And it's not your fault. It wasn't fair for me to blame you for our... issues. It's all my fault. Always thought I'd do anything for you. Hide relationship? Sure! Because it wouldn't matter because you'd be right her, beside me."

When John lifts his eyes there's fear in them, despair, something that looks like panic.

"I told you before, I'm bad with relationships. Rodney, you've got to understand, it's the way I am! I'm too old to change and trying to be different. Are you kidding me?" His voice is trembling, and there's inescapable anguish in his face.

"You should answer your question yourself!'" Rodney is angry again, nauseatingly furious. "I'm forty-three-year old, John. Forty-three. I'm not a kid. Life's too short to be wasted like this, like you want me to waste it. Jesus, I sound like Oprah! Fuck this shit! Seriously!"

He doesn't know why he's mad. He doesn't want to hurt John, he almost doesn't deserve it. Almost. But it has to be clear, everything has to be clear between them once and for all. Rodney leaps on his feet and starts waving his hands.

"You know what I want. You know that these... these moments stolen from our friendship, that's not enough for me. I was thinking about it way too much, you have to understand! Because I suddenly got it. All this time you were ready to die for me because you're the best person I've ever known. But you were never ready to live for me."

John looks like he's been slapped; there's a hurt and shock in his eyes. But Rodney has to say it, he just has to. Otherwise the silence would be infinite.

"I want you to live for me. Because I'm ready to live for you."

John is on his feet after that, and his hands are shaking, Rodney can see it.

"You can't just demand stuff like that. You... You... That doesn't fair, Rodney. You knew, I told you before!"

"I don't care", and wow, this what devastatingly beautiful feeling of freedom is like. "I don't care what you said. I'm not a man I sued to, what a man I was two or three year ago. I deserve to be loved, to be part of something. And I love you. I really do. Think of it as an ultimatum. Memorandum of Intent, how you military types are called it. It's you call now. You decide."

All Rodney is feeling right now is silence, and everything around him is clear, almost tranquil, like never before.


End file.
